


Unlocked Doors

by mightierthanthecanon



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Domme Dutch, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, Team Awesome Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightierthanthecanon/pseuds/mightierthanthecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that an order?” D'avin asks.<br/>“Is this my ship?” Dutch responds.<br/>On the floor, Johnny looks back and forth between them.</p><p>It's been a long time coming, this...whatever this is. As much as D'avin wants to be in charge of every mission, to tell everyone what to do and how to do it, there's a part of him that wants to let go. Dutch can see it in his stance when they're in public, the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is looking, the way he goes above and beyond when she gives him even the barest suggestion of an order. D'avin likes to please. And Dutch loves to be pleased. They could be good for each other. If only he would let himself.<br/>---<br/>D'avin walks in on Dutch and Johnny. She invites him inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlocked Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Something that popped into my head before "Kiss Kiss, Bye Bye" and never left.

Muffled footsteps pause quietly outside the door to Dutch’s room. _D’Avin._ She’s not sure how she knows, but she does. Equally clear in her mind is the fact that Johnny hasn’t noticed it. Her foot twitches in his hand and Johnny’s skillful fingers slow on the sensitive arch. He blinks. 

“Boss?” He asks, after a moment, thumb moving rhythmically over her skin. He looks almost unbelievably lovely at that moment, half-naked at her feet, blue eyes wide with concern. She loves him for it. But she will not forgive him for it. An unlocked door is an unlocked door. 

Pulling her oiled foot free from his grasp, she slides it slowly down his bare torso, grinning as his muscles tense under her toes.

“Did you lock the door, Johnny?” She presses lightly between his legs and his eyes flutter shut for a moment before he forces them open again. 

“Um…” 

“The door, Johnny,” she repeats, loud enough for D’Avin to hear. She imagines him on the other side of it, wracking his soldier’s brain to figure out what’s going on, and smiles. 

After a moment, Johnny realizes too, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck.” 

It’s been six years of just the two of them—working, living and sleeping together. Dutch had never imagined another person being a part of them. Then again, she had never imagined Johnny having a brother, when apparently he’d been keeping it from her all along. At least Johnny’s punishment hasn’t started yet.

Dutch draws in a breath, a plan percolating in the back of her mind. What a surprise _that_ would have been for soldier boy to walk in on.

“Yes, _fuck_ ,” she replies, drawing her feet in and grabbing a robe from the locker. She’s not quite naked, but knickers and a tank top don’t necessarily feel like appropriate attire for what’s about to happen. “Feel like company?”

His eyes catch hers. “Do I have a choice?”

The tremor in his voice is barely noticeable, but even so, Dutch can hear something in it other than the expected embarrassment. His voice is a few ticks lower than usual, and though he’s more aware than he was a few moments ago, his pupils are no less black than they were with her feet in his lap. It’s arousal. Whether he’s into a third person (unlikely) or into his brother (possibly, given how absolutely insane he went when D’Avin’s name showed up on the roster), Dutch doesn’t really care. She’s into all of it.

Sighing, she takes a step towards Johnny and strokes a hand through his hair. “Of course not,” she whispers, and he kisses her hand with as much reverence as he had massaged her feet. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” he breathes, and her fingers still. It’s not a title they use overmuch; Dutch rarely requires it, and he uses it even less frequently. But it seems weirdly necessary for where they are right now—to ground themselves in the truth of their relationship, even as they get ready to see it through new eyes. She bends down then, and kisses him. He surges up into it, needy, and hisses when her fingernails scratch against the nape of his neck. 

His lips taste like almond oil and supplication, and Dutch could kiss him forever, but D'avin is still outside. She doesn't want to waste this opportunity.

"Shoo," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth, and Johnny salutes her. 

"Yes, Mistress," he says, grinning.

Then he’s leaning against the foot of her bed with as much casual nonchalance as he can muster. Dutch stifles the laughter threatening to break through her smile and looks towards the door. 

“Are you going to stand there eavesdropping like a stalker, or are you going to come inside?” She can hear the snort of suppressed laughter before D’avin steps inside the room, which seems like a good sign, but still.

But still.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” D’Avin says defensively. He strolls through the door, casual as anything, but after a few weeks on the ship, he’s as easy to read as Johnny. A t-shirt, when she knows he sleeps shirtless, stretches tight across his chest, highlighting his muscles. Plus, he’s not even trying to act surprised, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

It's classic macho D'avin bullshit. And there's no place for that here. Not now.

Dutch stops him before he starts. “Lock it,” she says. It’s not a big room, but all the same it feels like it’s echoing, the sound repeating over and over again around her as the atmosphere in the room starts to shift.

D’Avin crosses his arms across his chest. “Excuse me?”

Are all of the Jaqobis boys deaf? “Lock it,” she repeats, holding his gaze.

“Is that an order?” D'avin asks.

“Is this my ship?” Dutch responds. On the floor, Johnny looks back and forth between them.

It's been a long time coming, this...whatever this is. As much as D'avin wants to be in charge of every mission, to tell everyone what to do and how to do it, there's a part of him that wants to let go. Dutch can see it in his stance when they're in public, the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is looking, the way he goes above and beyond when she gives him even the barest suggestion of an order. D'avin likes to please. And Dutch _loves_ to be pleased. They could be good for each other. If only he would let himself. 

“Do I have a choice?” he asks. Whether it’s a parody of Johnny’s previous question or not, Dutch can’t tell. She thinks not. He’s too straight-laced for that. Maybe it's just a soldier's habit. Maybe they're just that similar. Dutch grins. 

Two Jaqobis brother. This will be good. This will be better than good.

“Of course you do,” she answers, her voice honey-sweet. He looks thrown off, for a second, but she continues. “You can choose to be on the inside of that door, or on the outside of it.”

He shifts, eyes sliding shamefully down to Johnny at her feet. Johnny just looks at him. It’s clear he wants his brother in the room with them. It’s been clear, ever since she saw the two of them in the ring together. Johnny was fighting neither to kill, nor to subdue. He was flailing, like he does when he gets overwhelmed. It’s why Dutch cuffs him to the bed so often. 

She sighs, exasperated suddenly. D’avin’s taking too long, and Johnny still needs to be punished. Dutch crosses her legs, so that the silky robe drapes open, exposing her golden thighs. Her feet and calves gleam with oil, as do Johnny’s hands, held carefully in his lap. Dutch watches D’Avin’s eyes and grins as they widen with understanding. When he faces her again, there is understanding in his face, but not surrender. Still he waits. 

“Jaqobis,” she snaps, putting more than a trace of military authority in her voice. She can almost see two pairs of ears perk up in response. 

It's...heady, this power she has over them, and she squeezes her thighs together. 

“I’m not accustomed to repeating myself. Are you joining the party?” She pauses, raising her eyebrows deliberately to make it clear that this is the _last_ time she’ll be saying it. “Or not?”

Dutch can actually see the moment he decides to give in to her—the loosening of his fists, the twitch in his dick—and smiles, pleased, as he finally lets himself into her room.

“I’m here,” he says, locking the door. Then, he sinks to the floor at her feet before she even has a chance to tell him to.

Dutch’s smile broadens. _You were made for this_ , she thinks.  


“Yes,” she says, looking down at the two of them. “Yes, you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr's just a lot of ot3s and flailing, but come say hi! 
> 
> thebriggsbrigade.tumblr.com


End file.
